My Dad was a research scientific glassblower. He had trained after he returned from serving in the war and after many years as an apprentice went to work for an oil company in their refinery.

As a young girl I was mesmerised when I would spend hours with Dad in the garden shed as he made all different objects in glass. He would normally be making atomisers by the dozen, something he did to help pay for the very old car he and Mum had managed to buy. It was always going wrong and to pay all the garage bills Dad would take on extra work in the evenings and on weekends.

In his shed he had shelves filled with glass of all different colours and would make small ornaments for us. He’d ask us what we’d want and we’d excitedly shout out cat or dog or horse and within minutes the glass would be transformed into funny little characters. Even with his large hands Dad would craft the most beautiful intricate glass furniture for our dolls house and tiny glass coat hangers for our dolls clothes. It was always like magic to me, watching him heat the glass in the flame and then with various tools he would pull it into different shapes, sometimes blowing into it at the same time. It was wonderful and I loved our time together in the shed and the strange smell that only a glass blowing room has. For fun, Dad would blow very fine glass bubbles, they would waft up into the air and were so fragile that you could put your fingers through them and they would virtually disappear. Dad made beautiful gifts for friends and relatives and everyone would be in awe that he had made them in the shed. If he had not had the responsibility of a family and the need for a regular income I am sure he would have preferred to spend his time creatively rather than working with all the technical glass blowing at the refinery.

When I attended a spiritualist church in London many years later, there was a young man, Martin, giving his very first inspired talk. You could tell he was extremely nervous and I had even seen him pacing up and down in the hallway before he had to take his place on the platform. He needn’t have worried at all as his talk was very good. You could tell that the congregation was hanging on his every word and you could have heard a pin drop.

I noticed his aura expanding whilst he spoke and could see a vague outline of what appeared to be someone standing to the right side of him. I turned around and looked behind me to see if it could be a shadow or a play of the light, but everyone was sitting down and there were no obvious light sources. The medium on the platform was sitting to the left of Martin so I couldn’t see where this could be coming from. As he continued speaking I noticed an odd movement to the right hand side of him. There was a white-painted handrail with railings beneath which ran along the length of the platform and Martin was standing behind them and occasionally leaning on them. To my absolute amazement I could see the outline of someone leaning on the rail far to the right, and the more I looked the more form the shape took. Eventually I could see it was a man, a little taller than Martin, and surprisingly, he looked as if he was made of the glass bubbles that my Dad used to make. He was shiny and transparent! It seemed an age that he was there, leaning on the handrail looking at everyone. I kept blinking to clear my vision because I just couldn’t really believe what I was seeing. When Martin sat down the man was no longer visible and the service went on as normal. However, when Martin stood again to say the closing prayer I could clearly see the man again. It was an experience that I know I will never forget. I spoke to Martin afterwards and asked him if he was aware of anyone standing near him but he said he wasn’t. I did very much feel that this may have been a spirit who was there to assist him.

As time went on, and as I saw various mediums working, I began to see more and more outlines on walls behind them which would gradually form into ‘glass’ people. Often it would be quite vague but sometimes I could make out distinct features, even clothes that were being worn and very often the medium would then give that as a description of the spirit communicator.

When I had been away from my mediumship for several years it appeared that this ‘gift’ of seeing spirit on walls or ‘glass’ people had all but disappeared. I was chatting to some friends last summer and saying what a great shame that was. Then, much to my surprise, when I attended a local spiritual workshop I was sitting watching another medium demonstrate when I began to see the familiar outline slowly appearing on the wall behind her. I was thrilled! As we worked that day the visions became clearer until I could actually use the vision as the basis for one of my readings when I was called to stand up and demonstrate. I saw a ‘glass’ man leaning on a very old country gate and could see the countryside around him. Strangely I was also shown the most massive womans breast, which took up most of the wall, and I knew that he was connected to someone who had breast cancer. I was fortunate enough to be told his name, which is something I always ask for but don’t always get. I described him and the connection to the breast cancer and gave his name and immediately a woman could accept him and my communication with him strengthened. I was so grateful that I was able to give the recipient a good message from her loved one.

I often think of the ‘glass’ people I have seen and having spoken to several other mediums it does seem quite rare and I do wonder if watching my Dad making his glass bubbles all those years ago somehow stirred that gift in me. Thanks Dad!

I loved your story. As a young spiritual awakened being I use to see bright lights behind speakers heads like they were angels themselves. I use to think I was nuts. But every single person that spoke in front of the spiritual seekers during “lecture” had it. I could also feel the strength in their voice. They made you want to know more.